Addiction
by SillverMedal
Summary: Cowrite with DMBfan! A take on the realities of life, and what it means to work hard. Zack blindly accepts a job, but soon finds out the difference between paychecks and being paid. Complete!
1. o n e

**Disclaimer**: We own nothing but the plot.

**A/N**: **This chapter was written by DMBfan**, not me, and this story is a partnership between the both of us. I'll have chapter two up by tomorrow, so no worries there.

Enjoy the story!

-_Sillver_

* * *

Fourteen-year-old Zack Martin came rushing into his suite. He took a few minutes to catch his breath since he had just run up twenty-three floors because the elevators were out of order. Carey Martin raised an eyebrow as she watched her panting son.

"You okay?" asked Carey. Zack nodded.

"I need four-hundred dollars," explained Zack, hoping his mom was in a good mode. Carey gave Zack a sideways look.

"You're joking, right?" asked Carey.

"No. I need the money for that concert coming up in a month," answered Zack.

"The rock concert with all those bands? Sorry, Zack. You're going to have to raise that money yourself," said Carey. Zack sighed. He suddenly regretted asking for the hundred dollar game console the month before. Maybe if he hadn't asked for that.

"Come on, Mom. I'm dying to see this concert," pleaded Zack.

"Sorry, honey. I just don't have the money for that. You'll have to get it some other way," answered Carey.

"How am I going to raise four hundred dollars in a month?" asked Zack.

"Get a job," suggested Carey.

"A job?" asked Zack, his nose scrunching up in disgust.

"Yes, a job. You know, how people make money," explained Carey. Zack narrowed his eyes at his mother. Now she was being sarcastic. He was in no mood for sarcasm. Then again, there had to be a job out there that was easy and paid well.

"I guess I could get a job," sighed Zack.

"That's the spirit," exclaimed Carey. She threw Zack the classified section of the paper she had been reading.

"Start job hunting," she said. Zack sighed as he started leafing through the paper.

"By the way, where's your brother?" asked Carey.

"Library. Working on some extra credit. Like he needs it," mumbled Zack.

"He's a hard worker," said Carey. Zack glared at her.

"Not saying your not," defended Carey. Zack shook his head and went back to looking for a job. He raised any eyebrow as he read one that sounded interesting. _Zip Couriers_. _Delivery boy needed. Flexible hours. Good pay. Call 1-800-568-7529. Ask for Alex._

"There's an ad for a delivery boy. I could do that. I can get around this city pretty well," announced Zack.

"Call them up if there's a number," said Carey, looking over Zack's shoulder.

"Can't hurt," said Zack, picking up the phone and dialing the number. The phone rang twice before a woman picked up.

"Zip Couriers. This Paula speaking."

"Hi! I'm calling about the want ad in the paper. I'd like to talk to Alex," replied Zack.

"Oh sure. Can you hold for a second?"

"Sure." Some annoying elevator music came on. Zack sighed. A man picked up after twenty seconds.

"This is Alex."

"Hi. I'm calling about the want ad." There was a short pause.

"How old are you?"

"I'm fourteen." There was another pause. Zack sighed, expecting the man to come back on and say no.

"You know you're way around the city?"

"Oh sure."

"You have a bike?"

"Um, yeah. It's kind of piece of crap." Zack heard Alex chuckle.

"That's OK. You can trade your bike in for some of the ones we have here. One last thing, what's your name, son?"

"Zack Martin."

"Well, Zack, you can start right away. I'll start you off with the easy stuff. Stops that are only a few blocks away. Stop by tomorrow at around four-thirty and I'll give you your first job."

"Sure. Thanks a lot."

"No problem. See you tomorrow." The line went dead. Zack shrugged and hung up.

"Got the job. Guy was really nice," explained Zack. "I start tomorrow."

"There you go. Just be careful," warned Carey.

"Don't worry, Mom. Alex said he'd give me the easy routes," assured Zack.

* * *

Alex Robbins sighed as walked back to his office after talking to Zack Martin over the phone. He needed a new courier after what happened to young Michael. Kid took a short cut through a bad part of town and ended up being shot twice in the back and having his package stolen by a bunch of street thugs. The danger of being a bike courier. Alex sighed as he sat down at his desk. His splitting headache that had been plaguing him that morning came back. Alex rifled through his desk in search of an Advil. Paula poked her head in the office.

"Carlos Ruiz on line 1, boss. He sounds frustrated," explained Paula. Alex sighed. Great. Just what he needed. An angry phone call from one of his richest clients. Alex sighed and picked up the phone.

"Mr. Ruiz, how nice of you to call," exclaimed Alex cheerfully.

"I wish it was under better circumstances. I have not received my package yet," replied Ruiz angrily.

"Traffic is a nightmare at this time of day," explained Alex.

"Your couriers are on bikes, Mr. Robbins. That's hardly an excuse," sneered Ruiz.

"I'm very sorry for the inconvenience. I'll look into this right away," assured Alex.

"I hope so, Mr. Robbins," snapped Ruiz. He hung up. Alex slammed down the phone.

"Paula, who goes to the Ruiz place?" asked Alex.

"Larry. This is the fifth time he's been late," answered Paula, walking into her boss's office.

"Contact Larry and tell him to get his ass down there," ordered Alex. Paula nodded.

"Then contact Eddie and have him take care of Larry at the usual spot," added Alex. Paula nodded nervously as she left Alex's office. Alex leaned back in his chair. Hopefully this Martin kid was a good worker. Alex was sick and tired of having to take care of employees. He had a business to run. He couldn't afford to deal with incompetence.

* * *

Detective Jack Miller groaned as his phone rang for a second time. At least the machine would pick it up. Jack rolled over in bed and looked out the window. It was awfully sunny out for early in the morning.

"Jack, it's Walter. Jesus, Jack, it's four in the afternoon. Where the hell are you? Lying around isn't good for you. Please come down to the station. We might have a lead on that drug ring case. Don't torture yourself, Jack. Luke is going to be just fine."

Jack moaned as his boss mentioned his son. Eleven-year-old Luke Miller was lying in a coma at the trauma center. A mother earlier he had been hit by a car while riding his bike. Jack had fallen into a major case of depression. His ex-wife hadn't helped matters. She and Luke's stepfather were blaming the whole thing on Jack. Dirty move since Luke was spending the day with them when it happened. Jack felt the pain come back into his body.

He let out a tortured moan as he got up and rushed to the bathroom. The pill bottle was sitting on the sink, just where Jack had left it the night before. Jack took off the cap and popped three Prozac into his mouth. He swallowed them without water. The pain went away. Jack sighed in relief.

He looked at himself in the mirror. A weeks worth of stubble covered his face and his eyes were bloodshot. His black hair was sticking up in several different places. Jack took a twenty minute shower, letting the hot water calm his nerves. The one he couldn't mess up was his job. It was all he had left. He needed to bust the drug ring case wide open.

Jack finished showering and quickly dried off and changed. He didn't bother making coffee. He'd grab some later. He felt like working the late shift tonight. Maybe drop in on some of his contacts.

He holstered his gun and pulled on the jacket he had been wearing for years now. He stared at the shut door that led to Luke's room.

Jack hadn't been in the room for a week. Maybe when he got back...

He turned off all the lights and left for work, not sure when he would be back or if he would even come back.

Anything could happen.

* * *

**To Be Continued**

_Please review!

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_


	2. t w o

**A/N**: So, yeah, I wrote this one :). From now on we'll be splitting up chapters, though, I think, so you get a bit of both of our writing styles. Cool, yeah? Well, I mean, _I_ think so...

**Disclaimer**: We own nothing.

* * *

**A_D_DI_C_T_I_ON**

_chapter two_

_

* * *

_

Jack drove slowly, gently weaving between the lanes of traffic with the radio turned down low. He had no interest in the news; it was the silence that was maddening. Rain had started to fall from the sky, though somehow the sun still remained shining. His heart constricted suddenly and he was grateful for a red light.

There had been a time where he would've made something out of the weather; maybe joked about its irony or related it to some distant Irish proverb, but those times had long since been driven away.

As he accelerated his thoughts were elsewhere; caught up in this and that (mostly that) but all somehow intertwined to his son.

To Luke.

He groaned and tightened his hands on the wheel. This was getting completely ridiculous. His son was going to be _fine_! _He_, Jack, was the one who he should be worrying about. And right now he needed to get to his job before he completely screwed up all he'd managed to hang onto.

He'd been able to coach himself into thinking about work and his currant case when his cell phone began to ring. Swearing in surprise his car swerved once, sharply, as he reached for the cellular. He flipped it open without looking at the caller ID.

"Jack Miller," he said, steering his voice back to steely professionalism.

"Jack. It's Cathy."

His jaw clenched and he glared daggers at the Saab in front of him. "Cathy," he addressed his ex-wife coolly, trying to keep a level head.

She still spoke in that impatient, condescending manner to him that had helped fuel their bitter divorce. After Luke's accident she hadn't pressed legal charges (something Jack would be eternally thankful for), but she _had_ taken instigated guilt to a whole new level.

"John just checked the mail," Cathy continued, referring to her second husband. "And we didn't see your check."

Jack closed his eyes briefly as he slowed down to stop at a sign. "Maybe it just hasn't come yet," he offered, knowing anything he said would be shot down, cremated, and spat back in his face.

"Jack, we settled on you paying the medical damages. Luke was under _your_ care at the time of the-of the accident, and, as his _father_," she spat out the word like it burned her tongue. "You have the responsibility of coming through on your end of the deal! I'm not going to call you _again_, Jack-,"

"-Cathy, look," his voice had deepened considerably, and instead of feeling down he just felt annoyed. "I'm doing everything we agreed on, okay? I'm just as worried about Luke as you are,"

A long, tired sigh from his ex-wife's end of the line. "I know that, Jack," she said and he thought for a moment he heard the human-side of her and his hands relaxed on the steering wheel. "And I hope you're telling me the truth. I don't want to bring this to court, but I want you to know that I will if it comes to that."

Jack narrowed his eyes. "Cathy-," he began before noticing that the line was dead and she had hung up.

* * *

They were having pizza for dinner.

Zack was completely famished (as was often the case when pepperoni and sausage provided the evening's nourishment) and ate three pieces consecutively before the minute hand (which had been resting calmly at five after six when they had started eating) turned to chime in a quarter after.

He was so busy chowing down that he failed to notice that his brother wasn't eating. Both twins sat alone at the small table; their mother off at a concert. It was until Zack couldn't bring himself to finish his fifth piece that he finally let out a deep, careless burp and slouched down in the chair with a satisfied sigh of contentment.

Cody was leaning forward, his chest against the table and his hands tightly wrapped around his lower stomach. He bit his lip, face pale and shaking slightly. Zack raised a brow and scooted his plate forward with the tips of his fingers.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked his brother bluntly, wiping a hand across his mouth and cracking his knuckles.

Cody didn't answer, face going a shade whiter as he tightened his grip on his lower stomach. He whimpered slightly and Zack frowned and slid forward so that his elbows rested on the table.

"Hey-," he started, tone joking. Cody's breathing had gotten very quick and his breaths became short little gasps as he let out a quiet moan. "Cody?"

"Hurts-," Cody managed to whisper before clenching his eyes shut and curling up into a tight ball on his chair.

"What hurts?" Zack jumped up and went to his twin's side, looking at him in confusion. Cody made no reply, his breath catching in his throat. "Cody? Talk to me, buddy. What hurts?"

Cody looked at him with pain-filled eyes and took a shaky breath. "Stomach-," he managed to choke out before crying out again.

"Your-stomach?" Zack didn't bother keeping the doubt out of his voice. "Okay…You want me to call mom, or something?"

Cody began to cry slightly, face now sheet white as he continued to grip his stomach. Zack grew panicky and straightened, grabbing his cell phone from the kitchen counter and quickly dialing his mother's number. It rang four times until her answering machine took over.

Zack swore lowly and with another quick glance at his brother's quivering form, he called down to the Tipton's main desk, hoping that Mr. Moseby would answer. It was either him or his dad, and something told him that their father wouldn't be available or knowledgeable.

To the kid's relief it was in fact the hotel's manager who picked up the phone, answering it with a "how can I help you this time?" when he, apparently, saw which suite of his was calling.

"Mr. Moseby!" Zack said quickly. "It's Cody…I think he's sick, or something, he says his stomach hurts and it's gotta, like, really bad, and stuff, 'cuz he keeps holding it and he didn't eat and mom's at her concert downstairs so I didn-,"

A pause. "Where _exactly_ does your brother say it hurts, Zack?" Mr. Moseby's tone had gone urgent and brisk.

Zack looked around the counter to see where his brother seemed to be concentrating the most. "Like, his lower stomach, I guess," he answered, knowing that he could very well being exceedingly unhelpful.

This time there was no pause. "Alright, Zack, listen to me. Call an ambulance and have them come to the hotel. It could be appendicitis and that can get ugly-,"

"-_Appendicitis_?" Zack echoed in surprise. "What-like, his appendix is gonna explode, or something? Holy _crap_-,"

"-Zachary, do as I say, do you here me? Call an ambulance!"

Zack quickly sobered. "Yeah, yeah, I got it. I'll call them. Thanks, Mr.-,"

But the man had hung up. Zack's resolve grew as Cody emitted another cry of pain and he dialed 911 as quickly as his fingers would let him. He gave the operator the address, told her why he'd called, and did exactly as she told him to do.

Seven minutes later Cody had been rushed off in the emergency vehicle, and Zack sat outside the ballroom, waiting for his mom to come out and drive them to the hospital. At the time he was completely oblivious and ignorant of the fact that they had no money to pay for an operation. He was blissfully unaware of how their income had been slowly declining for years now.

And he had no idea that he was going to become the one to bring in the needed money. He knew about his new job…

Except, he'd find out later, not really.

* * *

**To Be Continued**

_Please review!

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_


	3. t h r e e

**A/N**: I wrote half, he wrote half. Clear? Heh. Thanks to all the reviewers, and we hope you enjoy ).

**Disclaimer**: We own nothing. Nadda. Zip. Null. You get the picture ;).

* * *

Zack was exceedingly and utterly bored out of his mind.

True, that boredness was tinted with concern for his brother, but with his mom still busy with an irritated receptionist and the waiting room way too crowded with an obnoxious assortment of people, he found he could almost overlook his worry. And besides, the surgery was a minor one.

It wasn't Hollywood—his brother wasn't suddenly going to go into full cardiac arrest. That would be way too cliché for Boston.

So, Zack sat in the seat, legs swinging idly and arms crossed moodily over his chest. He groaned quietly, but apparently not soft enough because an elderly woman suddenly leaned over her seat to speak to him.

"Is everything alright, dear?" she asked him kindly. Zack plastered a fake smile on his face and nodded.

"Yeah. Just impatient."

The women smiled gently and patted his knee. "Who is it that's having the surgery?" Zack inwardly sighed in frustration, but still maintained his mannerisms.

"My brother," he answered in a voice that (he thought) clearly expressed his interest in being left alone.

The lady failed to catch the drift. "Ah…" she said wisely. "I have two sons of my own—Harry and David. Would you like to see pictures?" Before waiting for his answer she dug into her purse and pulled out a little photo album that she undoubtedly kept for such an event. She showed Zack a picture of a little boy beneath a Christmas tree. "That's Harry when he was just, oh, four years old, I would say. Isn't he the cutest little devil?" She laughed and Zack mimicked her. "And that right there, that's him again, holding little David—do you know, when he was born he was only seven pounds! He sprung up, though; he's just like his father that way…"

Zack stopped paying attention (though he felt he was doing a pretty good job of pretending to) and sighed silently. A few minutes later a nurse appeared in the doorway and Zack (along with everyone else in the room) looked up eagerly; some with trepidation, others with excitement.

"Family of Oscar Veldi?"

The elderly women next to Zack made a little noise of exclamation as she quickly put away her photos and stood—enormous bag in hand. "I have to go see how Oscar's doing; don't want him harassing those poor nurses anymore." She laughed again and this time Zack smiled a genuine smile. "Good luck to your brother!"

Ten minutes after she'd disappeared behind the doors, Carey came over to Zack in a huff. She sat down with a clipboard and immediately began to furiously scribble things down. She muttered something about "damn hospital policies", and Zack emitted another groan.

"Don't accept my insurance…How can they get away with that? _I'm_ paying their salaries! Can't pay for my son's operation…like they know anything about it…"

Her indignant words started to ebb away at Zack until he could take it no more.

"I'm going to get something to eat," he announced, standing and waiting for her reply. She waved him off and he pushed through the doors, eager to be free of crowded lobby. The halls weren't much better, but there were less people.

He'd been walking a few minutes (trying to find a machine that sold something other than gum and mints) when he walked smack into something twice his size. He stumbled back, hand immediately going to his shoulder which had taken the brunt of the impact.

"I'm so sorry," the man said immediately, looking at him apologetically. He looked pale and in a state of disarray. Zack tried to wave it off, but winced slightly as his bruised shoulder protested. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," Zack said, grinning to brush off the question. The man nodded briskly and stuck out his hand.

"Jack Miller," he introduced himself.

"Zack Martin," said Zack, surprised at the professionalism. Weird.

They stood nodding at each other awkwardly for a moment or two until Jack cleared his throat and looked somewhere past Zack. "I've got to run—sorry about that, again, wasn't watching where I was going." He chuckled nervously.

Zack smirked and nodded. "No problem."

As the man hurried away Zack decided he'd settle on gum. It would last longer, and he might be there for a while.

* * *

Eddie Morton took another puff from his cigarette as he waited for Larry to get back. He knew this day would come. It had only been a matter of time. Alex could only be pushed so far. Larry was being terminated as so many other couriers had been. Eddie was usually called in for stuff like this. When he wasn't delivering the most important packages, he was assuring that problem workers were dealt with. Alex couldn't afford incompetence. Larry came riding up at quarter to nine. He waved at Eddie as he put his bike away in the garage.

"How you doin', Ed?" asked Larry, coming back outside after clocking out.

"Just fine, Larry," replied Eddie. Larry lit a cigarette and leaned against the wall of the garage.

"You waiting for something? Boss has gone home by now," said Larry, blowing out a ring of smoke.

"I know that," snapped Eddie. Larry finished his cigarette and threw the remaining ash on the ground.

"Catch you later," he said. He started to walk off. He never felt a thing. Eddie took out a gun and shot Larry in the back of the head. The front of Larry's forehead blew away as blood and bits of skull shot out of the exit wound. Larry slumped to the ground, blood still flowing from the bullet wound. Eddie threw his cigarette down and went over to the body. He stole Larry's wallet and any loose cash change he had. He'd make it look like a robbery gone bad. Pleased with himself Eddie headed for his car, knowing there'd be a nice bonus for him later in the week.

* * *

Detective Carson Stevens sighed as she sat on the top bleacher at the local community ballpark. Her son's little league practice was almost over. Carson shook her head as she watched all the other moms gossip and complain about everything that was going on or wrong with the world. Give me a break, thought Carson. The world is not that bad. Not for you people anyway, said Carson to herself, glaring at the mother's backs. Their sons didn't have to deal with a horrible and at times painful illness. They didn't spend the day keeping the city safe from the scum of the human race.

Carson turned her attention to Tyler. He was goofing off with the assistant coach on the pitcher's mound. Tyler was the team's star pitcher. He had a mean fastball and an equally tricky curveball.

Carson watched as the team's star hitter, Mikey Olsen, stepped up to the plate. Tyler leaned forward a little and licked his lips, something he always did before pitching. He let his fastball fly.

Mikey swung hard and missed.

Tyler smiled. Few people on his team could hit his fastball.

The coach, a chubby and balding man named Gus Monroe, announced that practice was over. The moms shot up and started gathering their son's gear. Carson stayed put. Tyler was old enough to collect his own gear.

Tyler talked and joked with his friends as everyone got their things together and headed for their own SUV and mini-van. Carson's two door BMW stood out like a sore thumb. Carson stood up and headed down the bleachers. Tyler waved goodbye to his best friend, Brian Oswald, and walked over to his mother.

"Hey, babe," greeted Carson.

"Hi, Mom. See my awesome fastball?" asked Tyler.

"I did. The kid never knew what hit him. Or didn't hit him," replied Carson. Tyler giggled as he and Carson walked towards the car.

Tyler had a good relationship with his mom. His dad had died when he was five leaving him and his mom on their own. Soon after that Tyler got sick. He suffered from an inflammatory bowel disease called Crohn's Disease. He was sick a lot with stomach aches and took some serious medication. He couldn't eat certain foods and sometimes was too miserable to even get out of bed but he led a pretty much normal life.

He had never had a major operation for his illness. At eight he had his appendix removed and four months earlier he had surgery to clear up a blockage in his stomach. Tyler didn't have as severe a case as some people. But lately his stomach was acting up more and more. If it kept up, he would need a major operation.

* * *

Jack walked into the hospital room.

He'd been there so many times he knew the number of tiles on the ceiling (forty three), the number of buttons on the machine (sixteen), and how many lights kept the room lit (five).

Jack was a number person.

And so he knew how many breaths per minute his son was supposed to be breathing, he knew how much money he supposedly owed his ex-wife, and he knew perfectly well just how many cases at work he'd left unsolved.

Undone.

He sat down in a little chair next to the bed and took his son's hand in his own. Running a hand down his face, he bowed his head and tried to leave his stresses where they belonged.

At work.

"Hey, kid," he whispered. "You have any idea who the bad guy is in that case they keep trying to get me to work out?"

Lucas remained motionless. Silent. Dead to the world.

"Yeah," Jack sighed lowly. "Neither do I."

And the sun slowly set.

* * *

**To Be Continued**

_Please review!

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_


	4. f o u r

**A/N**: Merry Christmas to those of you who celebrate it! We hope you have a lovely holiday :).

**Disclaimer**: We own nothing.

**Warning A**: Bit of some questionable language in this chapter. Just saying.

**Warning B**: I happen to be a bit of a Yankees fan (Please hold the tomatoes). It may be a bit off topic _now_, but when you reach my little scene at the end of the chapter please keep in mind I mean no offense for either mentioned team. Really. wink

Enjoy!

* * *

Jack groaned as he poured himself a cup of stale, lukewarm coffee from a small coffee room in the hospital. It was nice that the hospital offered families free coffee and pastries as they waited for word on their loved ones but it would be even nicer if they refilled the damn thing every once and awhile. Jack grimaced at the bitter taste as he drank the whole cup in one gulp.

He needed the caffeine so he poured himself another cup. He had spent about thirty minutes in Luke's room before deciding he needed some fresh air. The office had paged him twice but Jack hadn't bothered to call back yet.

He was sure his answering machine at home was full of concerned messages from the captain. Jack slowly sipped the coffee this time and headed back towards Luke's room. He'd finish this cup and then head to the office.

At least there the coffee would be warm.

Jack noticed that the boy from before, Zack, was sitting in the hallway outside of Luke's room in pediatrics. Zack looked up at Jack and smiled a little.

"Hey," greeted Zack.

"Hello. Our communication skills are improving. We're no longer crashing into each other," replied Jack with a tired smirk. Zack laughed.

"So what brings you to pediatrics?" asked Jack.

"My brother had surgery," answered Zack.

"That's too bad. For what?"

"Had his appendix taken out."

"Ah. I know a guy whose son had that last year. Pretty straightforward operation. I'm sure your brother will be okay."

"I'm think he will, too. He should be done in, like, in an hour." Zack agreed casually. "So is your son sick or something?" Jack sighed as he took a sip of coffee.

"You could say that." Jack motioned towards Luke's room. Zack sat up and looked through the little window on the door. He frowned as he looked at the little boy lying motionless in the bed.

"Did he have a big operation or something?"

"He got hit by a car a month ago. A few days after that he fell into a coma. And here we are, a month later." Jack finished with a long sigh

"That sucks." said Zack genuinely. "What's his name?"

"Lucas. No one really calls him that. We call him Luke. "

"We meaning you and your wife?"

"Ex wife."

Zack nodded, knowing it wasn't his place to ask. He liked Jack and felt sorry for him. Poor guy was watching as his son struggled to stay alive.

"My parents are divorced, too," he said quietly, suddenly feeling tired.

"Yeah? Must be rough," Jack answered with a touch of bitterness. "You still see your father sometimes, or…?"

"Yeah. My brother and I see him on a weekend once a month."

Jack sighed. Zack swallowed thickly.

"I hope your son wakes up soon." he said sympathetically.

Jack smiled despite everything. He liked this kid; he was sincere. "Thank you, Zack. So do I." Jack suddenly didn't feel like going back into Luke's room. He'd just get depressed and need to go home for some more pills.

"Mind if I finish my coffee out here? It's too quiet," inquired Jack.

"Sure." Zack shrugged. "It's a free country," Jack sat down next to him.

"So what do you do for a living?" asked Zack politely.

"I'm a cop," replied Jack with a touch of pride.

"_Really_? Cool! Like a regular cop?"

"No, detective." said Jack with a nod. "Mostly narcotics. Sometimes homicide."

"Sweet!" Zack grinned. "What's it like? I used to wanna be one."

"Well, I love my job," started Jack slowly, wondering how to word it. "_But_ I will tell you that sometimes all the crime and hate I see is a lot to handle. It can get to you if you're not careful." He shook his head wisely. "The streets are mean, Zack."

"I know." Zack said seriously. Jack smiled a little at the kid's intensity. "My friend Max almost got mugged last month. Right outside my school and everything."

Jack nodded and ran a hand through his hair. He liked this part of his job. If only he could just do this part…"Junkies sometimes mug kids so they can buy a quick hit." He said informatively. "It's stupid, though because then they have a lot of angry cops looking for them." Jack said as his pager went off again. He checked the number and sighed. It was his partner Jerry Williams, one of the few people he trusted.

"Okay, this I have to respond to." He looked apologetically at the boy. "I'll see you later, Zack," said Jack, standing up and walking down the hall for some privacy.

"Yeah. Nice talking to you," Zack called after him. He blew out his breath and leaned back in his chair. His mom was still trying to get health insurance to cover the medical costs, and Cody's surgery was going to be a bit more than they could handle. Zack had decided to forgot the concert and use what money he got from work to help pay for the surgery. Do the right thing and all that.

If only he knew where that money was coming from.

* * *

Alex blew smoke rings out of his mouth as he waited for his usual dealer to show up. He finished his cigarette and tossed it down. The rundown section of the waterfront was basically deserted at this time of night. No one came around here for fear of being shot by anyway who was out looking for some fast cash. Two of Alex's most loyal men were leaning against the car he was sitting on. They sighed as they both checked their watches again. 

"Where the hell is this guy, Alex?" asked Freddie, a mid-level dealer who Alex had saved from some serious jail time.

"He'll be here. Stop bitching about it," growled Alex.

"It's cold, man," said Kit, another mid-level dealer who had joined Alex after being screwed over by his old boss. Both Freddie and Kit owed Alex big time for taking them on as dealers so Alex knew he could trust them not to turn on him. _Don't bite the hand that feeds you_. Smart advice for a low level dealer. Alex stood up as a convoy of black sedans rolled up. An ice truck was slowly following them.

"Freddie, get the money," ordered Alex, walking over to greet his dealer. Freddie nodded and popped the trunk of the car. He hated that Alex used his reputation as security. If anyone wanted to screw him over in a deal, it'd be easy because Alex never brought a lot of men with him. He trusted that people would fear retaliation from Alex's more powerful clients if they ripped him off. Remy Pascal, a French dealer who had been in Boston for ten years now, got out of the lead sedan, followed by two bodyguards.

"Good evening, Mr. Robbins," greeted Pascal. Alex nodded at him.

"How are you, Remy?" asked Alex.

"Ready to make some money," grinned Pascal. Alex nodded ad Freddie walked up with a suitcase. Freddie put it on the ground and opened it.

"1.5 million dollars. I take it that truck is full of the merchandise," said Alex. Pascal nodded, ogling the money like it was the elixir of life.

"Pierre will follow you to the drop point," explained Pascal, closing up the suitcase. Alex nodded in agreement. He motioned for Freddie and Kit to get the car ready.

"Pleasure doing business with you," announced Pascal. He and Alex shook hands.

"As always," replied Alex.

* * *

Cathy and John were in Luke's room when Jack returned from calling his partner. Another courier had been killed and it appeared to be drug related. Boston was turning into a typical crime filled metropolis. Jack sighed as he stood in the doorway. 

"Afternoon," greeted Jack. John didn't even glance at Jack. Cathy gave him an annoyed look.

"What are you doing here?" asked Cathy.

"He's my son too, Cath'," defended Jack.

"Don't call me that, Jack. We're not married anymore," snapped Cathy. John leaned in close to his wife. Jack fought back the urge to go over and break John's jaw. John brought out Jack's violent side.

"Why do you call him Jack? Call him by his real name. Right, Jonathan?" sneered John.

"Actually,_ John_, my real name _is_ Jack. It's on my birth certificate. Not like I care what a scheming little _dickweed_ like yourself thinks," retorted Jack smugly. John's face went red. _Damn you for doing this here_, thought Jack violently.

"Just you wait, Jack. By the time I'm done you won't even be able to _look_ at Luke," announced John, grinning. Jack narrowed his eyes. They wanted full custody and no visitation rights for Jack.

"You _ruthless_ fuck!" exclaimed Jack, pounding the wall and leaving a dent in it. John stumbled back in surprise. He had the power of an attorney but that wouldn't stop Jack from kicking his ass. Two security guards showed up. Jack flashed his badge.

"Take this asshole out of here," growled Jack. Not wanting to argue with a detective, the guards escorted John out of the room.

"I'm calling your captain," threatened John.

"Oh yeah? Why don't you just go fuck yourself, then," snapped Jack childishly. Cathy was shaking her head.

"You can be such a jerk, Jack," groaned Cathy. Jack stepped closer to Cathy. His eyes were flaring. He willed himself not to knock Cathy into the wall.

"This isn't over." he said passionately. "Don't mess with me, Cathy. I have connections too," warned Jack. He pushed past Cathy and went over to Luke's bed. He leaned down and gave his son a light kiss on the forehead.

"Sorry about that, pal. I'll see you later," whispered Jack. He turned to leave.

"I won't…let John do that," whispered Cathy. Jack paused. He turned his head towards the woman he had once loved with every fiber in his being.

"You're Luke's hero." She sighed helplessly. "I can't deny him the right to see you," explained Cathy slowly. Jack sighed. He did miss her. He missed waking up every morning with her lying next to him. He messed talking and joking with her.

And he missed being in love with her.

"I'll talk to you later," said Jack quietly. And with that he left, leaving Cathy to silently cry next to their son's bed.

* * *

"Eat more beans, Ty, they're good for you." 

The eleven-year-old groaned and made a face at his plate. The chicken and grapes had long since disappeared, and all that remained was a rather unsightly lump of watery-green mush that remained (perhaps wisely) intact.

"But mom…" Tyler whined, casting a longing look at the warm brownie sitting next to his half-empty glass of milk. "I already ate my _grapes_…"

Carson tutted and began clearing her own empty plate. "Vegetables build strong bones," she reminded her pride and joy as he sat, slouched over his plate and glaring at what was waiting to be digested. "I bet Derek Jeter eats _his_ beans…"

Tyler straightened with a scowl. "Mom!" he said, outraged. "Derek Jeter is on the _Yankees_!"

Carson blinked as she washed off the silverware. "Your Uncle Tom lives in New York," she reminded him. "There's nothing wrong with it-,"

"-I'm not taking about _New York_!" Tyler said exasperatedly. "I'm _talking_ about the _Yankees_!" He cast his brown eyes at her as though his words made complete sense to everyone else in the world, and his own _mother_ didn't follow…

"I'm not sure I'm following you-," Carson starting, purposely leading him on. Baseball was his one true passion thus far in his young life, and she'd be darned if he didn't know everything there ever was to know about his favorite sport.

"It's like this, mom," he said, twisting around in his chair to face her. "We live in _Boston_. We got the Red Sox and they're really, really, really, _really_ good, you know?" He stopped until she nodded her understanding. "Okay, well, the Red Sox and the Yankees don't like each other. It's a _huge_ rivalry."

"Oh, I see," Carson smirked as she feigned solemnity. "So the Red Sox are better?" she asked her son innocently.

Tyler's eyes grew wide and he snorted loudly. "Yeah!" he said loudly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the _entire_ world. "Yankees suck!"

"Tyler!" Carson scolded him. "Don't say _suck_. And if I remember correctly, didn't the Yankees beat the Red Sox this year?"  
"It's 'cuz they cheated!" Tyler shouted, outraged. He continued his tirade for a full seven minutes as Carson bustled around getting everything ready for the next day. When she had finally coaxed him into eating his vegetables ("If you were really a Red Sox fan you'd eat them, Ty,") and he'd gobbled down the brownie, she sent him off to brush his teeth, promising to meet him up there.

Ten minutes later she found him in bed and sat down quietly in the chair next to him. He turned his head towards her on the pillow and grinned, dimples popping out adorably. She messed up his hair affectionately.

"You think Uncle Tom's a Yankees fan?" he asked her worriedly.

Carson laughed. "I don't know," she said, mystified. "Maybe you should give him a call and ask him?"

Tyler nodded gravely. "I hope he's not," he said lowly, wincing slightly.

Carson frowned. "You okay?" she asked him quickly.

He sighed and nodded. "Just a little stomach ache," he said.

Carson snapped to attention. "Does your stomach hurt? Where? Do I need to go get the medicine?"

He raised a brow at her frantic demands and shook his head. "No, mom," he said calmly. "I probably just ate the beans too fast, that's all."

She looked at him suspiciously.

"_Really_," he assured her.

Carson settled back down but looked at him sternly. "Tell me if it gets any worse. Any worse _at all_, promise?"

Tyler rolled his eyes but his mother pressed. "Okay, okay," he said in annoyance. "I _promise_."

"Good," she said, leaning down to kiss him despite his immediate protests. "Sleep good, then, sweetie,"

"Good night!" he waved, and Carson left the room with a faint sigh.

Outside, a million stars twinkled in the blackened sky.

* * *

**To Be Continued**

_Please review!

* * *

_


	5. f i v e

**A/N**: I had some uploading issues so this chapter was (unfortunately) chopped off a bit. Next update ASAP and I promise it will be way longer. Thanks to all who reviewed!

**Disclaimer**: We own nothing.

* * *

"I got your homework for you."

Cody nodded from where he lay reading a book on his bed and Zack dropped a pile of worksheets and binders beside his pillow.

"Have fun," he added sardonically with a smirk.

Cody rolled his eyes good-naturedly and closed the book, careful to mark his place. "English, math, history…" he said as he leafed through the assignments. "No such as thing as pity, is there?"

Zack shrugged and yawned. "Well, you could try tonsillitis next time and get another week off…" he suggested playfully.

Cody shot him a look and Zack raised his hands in mock surrender as he walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen to where his mom stood talking to someone on the phone. From the sound of her side of the conversation, Zack figured it was the insurance company and a suddenly he shot up straight.

"_Crap_," he muttered under his breath as he yanked his coat off a hanger and shoved it on. "Job!" he mouthed to his mother. "I've got to go-," she nodded and motioned for him to call her later.

"…This is absolutely ridiculous. I just talked to some lady two minutes ago and she gave me completely different rates. No-No I'm sure-Let me speak to the manager. I have a few questions for your boss…"

He ducked out the door and rode the elevator down.

First day on the job started now.

* * *

"Mom! We're gonna be _late_!"

Carson hastily finished applying her mascara and grabbed her purse as she hurried out of her bathroom and down the stairs. Little Tyler stood waiting by the front door, backpack on, coat zipped, and arms crossed as he impatiently tapped on of his laced sneakers on the rug covering the hardwood floor.

She couldn't help but smile a little as she ducked into a scarf and slid into a pair of short heels; her son was a stickler for being on time. She really didn't know where he got it from—probably his father. She most certainly was not so strict on beating the clock down to its very _seconds_.

"Alright, Ty', I'm ready."

He stopped tapping and grinned as he opened the door and jumped out. Carson followed, closing the door firmly and locking it tightly as she was careful to side-step any lingering ice from the last snow storm.

She waited for her to unlock the car, and when she obliged he jumped into the front seat eagerly. She took her spot as the driver and carefully backed out. When they'd been driving a little while Tyler began to talk—one of his favorite hobbies.

"…And then Jake said that he was gonna get the Nintendo Wii, and Andrew said that he was gonna get the PlayStation 3 which is like, a _billion_ dollars! I think he should get the Wii, though, 'cuz you can play old games and stuff and he already _has_ the Nintendo Game Cube which is like, compatible _with_ the Wii. And then if he does me and Jake (and maybe Mike, too, unless he's still grounded) could go over with our Madden games ('member my new one? You know? Well, we could play _it_, too)…"

She had no Earthly idea of what he was talking about, so she simply nodded and laughed occasionally as they neared the Middle School.

"…And nobody can beat Mike's record because he's just the best at that game, you know? But I think I could except it would take me a long time and I don't really want to wait that long," he swung his legs in the seat as the car pulled into the school's parking lot.

Carson watched his fiddle and shook her head slowly. Maybe he was ADHD like the teachers all seemed to think he was…But maybe he was just a boy. Maybe he was just a little boy with no dad, bad stomach aches, and a cop for a mother.

She sighed and forced a cheerful smile as she slowed to a stop before the school. He opened the car door and jumped out, stopping to smile and wave. "Bye!" he said, as he fastened his hands around the backpack straps on his shoulders.

"Bye, sweetie!" she answered. "Have a nice day!"

"You, too!" he called out before turning and walking away. She let out a sarcastic snort as she rolled the window up and began pulling away (once she'd watched him get safely inside).

That was going to be an understatement, she was sure.

* * *

The station was quiet when Jack arrived. He had taken the scenic route, not looking forward to dealing with the captain. The captain was not a morning person. No one at the station really was. Most of the desks were empty with only a few detectives pulling an all nighter to close murder cases quickly. Captain Walter Fletcher was standing outside his office.

"I'm not in the mood, Walt," groaned Jack.

"I don't give two shits if you are. Where the hell have you been?" asked Fletcher.

"Sleeping," replied Jack, walking into his office. Fletcher gritted his teeth and glared at his top cop.

"If you weren't my best man, you'd be demoted to a meter maid. How can you do this to me?" asked Fletcher. Jack slumped down into the chair.

"What are you talking about?" asked Jack. Fletcher sighed and took a deep breath,

"Jack, did you forget that in two days I'm retiring? There's a new captain taking over. This guy won't stand for your bullshit," answered Fletcher.

"Oh man, I'm sorry, Walt. I forgot. What's his face? That guy from LA," remembered Jack.

"David Reyes. One of the most by the book guys I've ever seen. He already has his sights on you," warned Fletcher.

"I'm not dirty," assured Jack, holding his hands out in defense.

"But you have a reputation on the streets as a thug. Reyes won't stand for that. This guy spent five years taking down corruption in the LAPD. Also was involved in some serious charity and community clean up projects in Latino neighborhoods. Makes sense since he started in Tijuana as a police chief," explained Fletcher.

"What's he doing here?" asked Jack.

"The job was open. He applied for it," replied Fletcher.

"I can look after myself, Walt," assured Jack, turning on his computer.

"I don't give a damn. As of right now you're the leader of a new task force. You guys are responsible for keeping drug trafficking and gang violence to an extreme minimum. This is the only way Reyes will keep you and other cops like you on," explained Fletcher. Jack sighed and leaned back n his chair. This is just what he needed. A leadership job to keep him occupied 24/7.

"Who's on the team?" asked Jack.

"Alex Robbins is the second in command. He's our best man undercover and is pulling in the most arrests. You two get along fine so that's why I assigned him to it."

"OK. I like Alex. Who else?"

"Vic. You guys have been partners for years. I figured you need a good right hand man." Vic Gordon was like a brother to Jack. The two had risen in the ranks together. They had been roommates at the academy and partners for their entire career. Jack and Vic trusted each other one hundred percent.

"OK. So far I like what I'm hearing. Who else?"

"Two hotshots who are always pushing buttons. I figured you can keep them under control. Shane Corson and Kurt Green."

"I know those two. They're a little too ambitious. Shoot first, ask questions later. Real badasses. At least they think they are. Is that it?"

"No. Reyes insisted I put a woman on the team. Said we're not a sexist department."

"Nothing wrong with that. Who is it?" Fletcher sighed. Jack was not going to like this.

"Carson Stevens." Jack groaned.

"Don't even start, Jack. Carson is ten times the cop then most of the peckerheads in here. She can break a man's arm in one swift move and is one of the best marksmen on the force. I'd be stupid not to assign her." Jack shrugged.

"Fine, whatever. What's our first case?" Fletcher threw a thick folder at Jack. It landed with a thud on Jack's desk.

"Zip Couriers. There have been four shootings there in three months. I smell an undercover drug operation. Go knock down some doors and crack some skulls. Call me if you need anything."

"You want to let this group loose on the city?"

"I'm still the captain. I can do whatever the hell I want. Team comes in at six. Take some time to catch up on some paperwork." Jack groaned as Fletcher. He opened up the folder and leafed through it. A lot of names and record logs had been collected over the past four month. It was going to be hell to sift through them all. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

**To Be Continued**

_Please review_!

* * *


	6. Character List

**

* * *

CHARACTER LIST**

**Zack**: Fourteen-year-old drug delivery boy. Oblivious to what he's actually doing; twin brother of Cody.

**Carson Stevens**: Mother of Tyler; single mom since the death of her husband; once involved in a relationship with Jack Miller.

**Jack Miller**: Protagonist; ex-husband of Cathy and father of Luke; mentally unstable; hardened narcotics cop.

**Tyler Stevens**: ADHD son of Carson; suffers from rare stomach disease; smart and quick but disliked by his teachers; struggles in school.

**Luke Miller**: Son of Jack; hurt in accident pre-story; abused by step-father; a serious and stoic boy with a knack for solving puzzles.

**Alex**: Undercover cop whose alliance is questionable.

**Vic**: Coworker of Carson and Jack's.

**Cathy**: Ex-wife of Jack; mother of Luke.

**John**: Abusive step-father of Luke; husband of Cathy.

**Mrs. Labrizzi**: Impossible teacher of Tyler's.

**Cody**: Twin-brother of Zack; health insurance started need of a second income.

* * *


	7. s i x

**A/N**: Thanks to all who reviewed! A character list has been added to keep all our OC's in check. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: We own nothing.

* * *

Zack found the courier station empty when he arrived. He groaned as he looked for any sings of life. Seems he had missed the morning run.

"I am so screwed," exclaimed Zack, as he leaned against a wall.

"I won't stand for that kind of attitude," replied a voice from an office behind Zack. Zack whirled around. A well built man with dirty blonde hair was standing in the doorway of a small office. His eyes burned with some kind of strange intelligence. The man walked over to Zack, sizing the boy up.

"You must be, Zack? I'm Alex, your supervisor," introduced the man, extending his hand.

"Sorry I'm late," apologized Zack, shaking Alex's hand. Alex smiled and motioned for Zack to follow him.

"You're actually right on time. We're closed today. Figured I'd let you do some easy drop offs with just me here in case you get into any trouble," explained Alex.

"Oh. That's a relief," sighed Zack. Alex led Zack to the bike garage where a brand new Schwinn was waiting for him.

"Wow," exclaimed Zack, walking over to the bike.

"That's a top of the line bike there. That's yours to keep," explained Alex.

"Thanks," replied Zack, his voice filled with gratitude. It sure beat the hell out of his old bike.

"Lose that and it's your ass," warned Alex.

"I won't," assured Zack. Alex nodded.

"OK. Might as well start," announced Alex. He handed Zack a one strap backpack and package.

"Tipton Hotel. Make sure Mr. Moseby signs the form that's attached to the clipboard inside your bag. You'll also find a bike lock and a radio in there," explained Alex. Zack had to take a double take.

"The Tipton?" asked Zack, his eyes widening. Alex nodded.

"You know it?" asked Alex.

"I live there," replied Zack.

"Then you should have no problem getting Mr. Moseby to sign that," answered Alex. He grinned and cocked his head a little.

"Get going. I'll wait here," ordered Alex. He lifted the main garage door and the sounds of late afternoon Boston came pouring into the garage. Zack got on the bike after putting the bag around his neck. Alex returned to his office as Zack rode out into the hustle and bustle of the street and headed for the Tipton. The Tipton was ten blocks away so Zack figured it would only take maybe ten minutes depending on foot and car traffic. So far he loved his job. And they way Alex was treating him, it looked to be some easy money. Zack had no idea that he was about to experience a nightmare far beyond anything he could imagine.

* * *

The Tipton lobby was surprisingly deserted when Zack arrived. Usually there would be a horde of businessmen checking in overnight for a business meeting the following morning. Zack asked Norman, the doorman, to watch his bike as he headed for the front desk. Mr. Moseby groaned when he saw Zack. Moseby didn't have many happy experiences with Zack.

"Yes, Zack. How may I help you?" asked Moseby in a sarcastic manner. Zack took the package out of the bag and placed it on the front desk.

"Package for you, Mr. Moseby," announced Zack, grinning. Moseby raised an eyebrow.

"What?" asked Moseby.

"I got a job at Zip Couriers. There's a package for you," replied Zack. Moseby smiled faintly and gave a slight nod of approval.

"Good for you, Zack. Getting some money," complimented Moseby cheerfully.

"Thanks. Sign here," ordered Zack, handing Moseby the clipboard. Moseby signed and Zack hurried outside so he could back to the garage.

* * *

The bus was going slower than usual and Zack, for one, was bored out of his frickin' _mind_. He'd finished his soda a while ago and was contemplating throwing the half-crushed aluminum can at the back of the driver's head to speed him up a little.

Because being late for work on the first day was, well, not a great thing.

And now he wasn't working for himself anymore. Now he was working for his _family_. He was really getting to be, like, the man of the house, or something. Taking care of business the old fashioned way: work, provide, reward.

The bus gave a great lurch and he flew forward against the seat in front of him. Groaning in frustration, Zack straightened up and got out with a crowd. It wasn't his stop but he could walk at a snail's pace and probably beat the bus to where he wanted to be. And besides, he needed more exercise.

"Excuse me," he mumbled to an elderly man on the sidewalk. Shrugging around some impossibly slow walkers he broke out into a fast trot, glancing upward a street sign to try and figure out where the heck he _was_.

He felt good about this job, though.

Maybe Cody had been the "responsible one" for years, but that didn't mean that ole' mischievous big bro' couldn't take on some familial duties.

He was fourteen—practically an adult. And now he was finally acting like one.

With a proud, smug grin Zachary Martin stepped into an alleyway and straight into a long street of mistakes.

All in a day's work, of course.

* * *

Carson entered the classroom later than had planned, and when she closed the door firmly behind her she was disheartened to see her son's teacher sitting at her desk and staring at her as though she'd been waiting a long time for her to show up. 

"Sorry, Mrs. Labrizzi," Carson apologized genuinely, taking a seat in the chair placed strategically before the aging English teacher. "I had to take care of something at work and lost track of time."

This was the God-honest truth, but the older woman seemed to almost scoff at the excuse. "Tell me, Mrs. Stevens," she said in a bored, pompous voice. Her beady grey eyes were framed by pointed glasses that gave her the air of an aristocratic being and she flipped idly through a manila folder before her on the desk. "Where is it exactly that you work?"

Carson blinked, finding this question to rude and offensive. She answered it nonetheless because she did not want to reflect poorly on her son, but her voice had turned crisp and business-like. "I'm a Boston police officer," she answered politely.

Mrs. Labrizzi said nothing immediately, but her gaze changed into one of displeasure and she gave a small sigh as she flipped her graying dark hair back across her shoulders (draped with an awful purple shawl). "I see," she answered slowly.

Carson was getting sick of this and couldn't mask her impatience any longer. "Look, Mrs. Labrizzi, my son brought home a note last night saying that you wanted to see me. I'm here and I'm listening. What is it that you want to say?"  
With another look of contempt, the teacher folded her hands (and Carson saw with a bit of disgust that the woman's nails were long and painted so intricately it was beyond tacky) and straightened importantly.

"Tyler has become a major distraction in my classroom." Mrs. Labrizzi said, voice soft but threatening. Carson half-rolled her eyes and got read to spring into defense-mode. "He is constantly disrupting my lessons; he continually bothers my other students; and he does not perform well on any of my assessments-,"

"-He's a _boy_, Mrs. Labrizzi, he doesn't want to take notes and sit still-,"

"-None of the _other_ children exhibit such a problem with sitting still and being a respectful child. It is only your _son_ who poses such an issue in my classes-,"

"-Do _not_ single out Tyler!" Carson's tone had turned vicious and an anger had risen up in her. "He is a _good_ boy and he tries _very_ hard in _your_ class!"

Mrs. Labrizzi vocally scoffed. "Hence his C-minus in sixth grade English."

"You know what?" Carson threw up her hands and stood up from the seat. She was stressed, she was tired, and she was _sick_ of being told what a horrible student her son was. "I know my son, Mrs. Labrizzi, and he is just as smart as any other kid you teach! So he doesn't like to read; he's a _boy_! He likes baseball and-and _sports_, not-,"

"One's gender is no _excuse_, Mrs. Stevens. I assure you there are a great _number_ of boys who display better public etiquette than your son!"

Carson snatched her purse and slung it over her shoulder. _But are there a great number of these boys who have been raised father-less and with a cop for a mother_? she wanted to ask of the teacher. _Do any of these _other boys_ wait at the station and watch criminals get their mug shots when they have a day off of school_? She wanted to scream it, to shout it, to yell it to the world! _And how about the other boys, huh? Any of them have stomach problems? Chronic health concerns, Mrs. Labizzi?_

"I'm sorry Tyler isn't your model student," said Carson, trying to compose herself. "And I'm sorry he's having trouble in your class. But you know what-," she stopped as her voice began to break. "-I'm working on that, okay? He's ADHD; he doesn't know what to do with himself, and it's hard to…"

Mrs. Labrizzi continued to stare her down and Carson sighed and shrugged. "I thought that was your job," she said, voice quieter. "To teach him."

"Oh, no, no," Mrs. Labrizzi corrected with a cruel little laugh. "No, Mrs. Stevens, my job ends in the classroom. It is up to _you_ to teach him the rest."

Carson shook her head in disgust as she yanked open the door and closed it harshly behind her. With shaking hands she gripped her hair and tears sprung to her eyes. She allowed herself one choked sob before fighting the rest back and forcing her eyes to dry. Once she had mastered her self-composition, she rounded a corner and walked down the hallway until she came to the front lobby.

There, playing with a small portable game system and tapping his feet to some imaginary rhythm, was her son. He saw her enter and his face broke out in a wide grin as he hopped up from the chair.

"Mom!" he exclaimed, hurrying towards her and holding out the electronic toy. "Look! I beat the level!"

He hugged her tightly and she held him back, eyes closed against the hair he'd gotten from his father. "That's great, Ty'," she murmured, sighing deeply. "That's really great."

* * *

Carson tapped her nails angrily against the steering wheel as traffic continued to inch forward. What was usually a ten minute trip from Tyler's school to the station was now turning into a two hour trip. 

Some old woman had rear ended someone and was making a big deal about it, saying that the person she hit should have been paying attention. Two traffic cops were currently trying to break up the scuffle. Carson fought back the urge to pull out her badge and say she had an emergency drug bust to get to.

Eh.

Her captain wouldn't like that. She'd pulled that one a bit too often.

Carson groaned and sunk back in her seat. Tyler was immersed in his game, oblivious to the world. Sometimes Carson envied him. Carson watched as her son obsessed over his game.

He looked so much like his father. Overgrown light brown hair, bright blue eyes that gave him a look of curiosity and innocence; a round nose that had looked identical on his father. Tyler's mouth was all his own though; full lips that seemed to always curl up into a smile.

How anyone could hate him?

Especially a teacher! It had taken all of Carson's will not to explode on that woman. She didn't tolerate people picking on Tyler--not at _all_.

A horn blasted angrily behind her and Carson jumped in surprise.

"Oh crap," she muttered as she accelerated. She sometimes thought Tyler got his ADHD from her.

As she continued to drive towards the station, she suddenly became more and more desperate to get there just so she could be around people who respected her.

For some unexplainable (and possibly irrational) reason her thoughts went to Jack. Jack Miller. The alpha male of the station and now her immediate boss.

Once upon a time she had confided in him—even loved him, maybe. It was nearly two years ago now and had taken place right after his divorce. He had, at first, came running to her for comfort and she had been there, waiting, with open arms. Arms that had once hugged her own husband, and arms that missed the returned embrace of a loyal and confident love.

A month after they began their relationship he had been assigned to undercover work.

And it had changed him; Made him distant.

Then Luke fell into a coma.

Then Jack's downward spiral began.

Then Tyler's problems in school had started.

Carson should have been there to support him as she had been before.

But there was too much in the way. Too much holding her back.

Too many things left unsaid.

* * *

The station was bustling when Carson finally arrived. The task force had just taken down a major drug runner and people were excited to say the least.

"Carson, where the fuck you been, huh?" asked an officer Carson didn't really know (and really didn't care to).

"I had a meeting to go to. And try to watch your language in front of Tyler," snapped Carson, placing her hands over Tyler's ears. The officer laughed and tossed a convenient football at Tyler who was grinning in the presence of the people he looked up to a little too much for Carson's liking.

"Come on, little man," the officer said enthusiastically. "Vic and I were going to toss that around a little to relax. We could always use an extra player…"

A wide grin spread over Tyler's face and he started for the task force meeting room. He stopped dead in his tracks soon after and, hands forever fiddling with something in his pocket, turned to look at his mother.

"Can I go, Mom?" asked Tyler genuinely, still grinning.

Carson sighed wanly, but nodded in surrender. Her son was out of sight in seconds; bounding away to use up some excess energy.

Jack walked out of his office and motioned for Carson to join him. She let out a deep sigh and headed for his office, wincing as someone slammed into her shoulder and didn't even stop to apologize.

The station was a madhouse. It was rarely like this during the afternoon. Most people were usually out on patrol or on assignment. The crime was out on the streets-- not in the station.

Jack closed his office door as Carson came inside.

"Going to lecture me, Jack?" asked Carson, sitting down in a chair in front of Jack's desk. She gave the office a once over. The wall was bare except for Jack's diplomas and a picture of Luke. There were a few more pictures of the boy on the desk and Carson felt a surge of sympathy for her old friend—God only knew how she would be if _Tyler_ was in such a state…

"How was the meeting?" asked Jack, genuinely wanting to know. Carson cocked an eyebrow. W_hy did he care?_

She answered nonetheless. Talking to Jack came naturally; perhaps a bit too naturally, actually. "Could have gone better," she answered honestly, rubbing her temples and sighing tiredly. "The teacher has no sympathy for Tyler's problems at all," she let her hands fall and blinked her eyes to clear them of their bleariness. Jack leaned back in his chair.

"What d'you mean?"

Carson fought an urge to roll her eyes. "Why do you _care_ all of a sudden, Jack?"

When Jack spoke next it came out sounding defensive. "Hey," he said testily. "I care about you and Tyler, okay? You guys, you know, struggle a lot. Someone needs to care."

Carson had to smile at that; not many people were sympathetic to their situation and it was nice to talk to someone who did. Even if it was Jack.

"So," started Jack. "What happened?"

Carson sighed and told Jack about her meeting with Mrs. Labrizzi. It took all her will power not to break down and cry but she managed. Jack was deep in thought when she finished and slowly smiled as he thought of something.

Carson felt a surge of trepidation and narrowed her eyes a bit suspiciously.

"Well…" said Jack slowly. "I could always plant some pot in her desk and arrest her…"

Carson smiled good-naturedly. That would put Labrizzi away for at least five years. Her maturity much too high for such a "prank", Carson was a bit put-off when she saw that Jack was dead serious.

"Tell me you're kidding," said Carson condescendingly, fighting the urge to laugh. She was a _mother_, for goodness sakes!

Jack shrugged. "If you want me to," he said solemnly. Carson was about to reply when Alex poked his head into the office.

"Just got a lead on a wanted dealer." he said, as straightforward as usual. "Want me to roll with it?" asked Alex. Jack blinked and focused before nodding curtly.

"Yeah," he said decisively. His gaze flickered to Carson. "And take her with you," ordered Jack. Alex nodded and went to get ready,

"Go get 'em," said Jack, grinning at Carson who pursed her lips. _Men_.

"What about Tyler?" asked Carson, not giving in to his impulsive decision. "I need to get him home and make dinner-,"

"The guys have a PS2 in the meeting room," said Jack, waving off her argument. "It won't take you long and he'll be entertained until you come back,"

Carson stared at him another long moment before turning to follow Alex. As though sensing her mistrust, Jack called after her.

"Come on—you trust me, don't you?"

She turned back to look at him; the words resting on her tongue. "Depends-,"

"-You trust me with _Tyler_, right?"

Jack seemed sincerely worried and Carson smiled slightly. "I guess I'll find out," she said.

And on her way out she watched her son laughing happily as he played in the side yard of the building. As long as he was happy, she was happy, too.

* * *

Zack had already made 240 dollars in tips and he had only been working for an hour and a half.

His first two deliveries had been pretty easy. First the Tipton and then some small diner downtown. The third had been a little complicated. Some lawyer's office that was tucked away in the bowels of downtown Boston. The fourth one had been some executive office on the 23rd floor of a bank's Boston headquarters. Zack had received a hundred dollar tip there. Not bad for his first day of work.

Zack was now on his way to the docks. Alex had said this one was very important. One of his best clients. The package had to get there today. If Zack got it there by six, Alex would give him a 200 dollar bonus.

He checked his watch. 5:35. He pumped his legs harder so as to get to the docks in time.

At last he made it there with ten minutes to spare. Now to find Mr. Edgar Hopper…

That proved to be simple enough. Hopper was smoking a cigarette and leaning against a piling that was next to a fishing boat that had obviously seen better days. The man threw his cigarette down and swaggered over to the teenager.

"Can I help you?" asked the man.

"I'm looking for a Mr. Hopper," announced Zack, getting off his bike.

"You found him," replied Edgar. He held out his hand. "Got a package for me?" Zack nodded and handed over the parcel.

"You gotta sign it," explained Zack, getting out his clipboard and handing Edgar a pen. Edgar quickly signed and gave Zack a fifty.

"Thanks, kid. I'll let Alex know you got here before six," assured Edgar.

Zack smiled and went on his way. Edgar climbed on board the fishing boat and headed inside.

There were four men packaging cocaine.

Edgar threw the package on the table and took out a cell phone. He pressed six on speed dial and got an answer after two rings.

"Yes." The voice was thick in a Mexican accent.

"I got the stuff. The deal happens tomorrow. Nine AM. Docks. Slip 9. Be on time." Edgar hung up and then called Alex.

"Did you get it in time?" asked Alex as he answered.

"Yes. The deal is happening tomorrow. Nine AM. Here."

"The task force will be there." Alex hung up. Edgar put away his phone and sat down to help out the guys.

* * *

Jack returned home at around midnight. He had managed to slip out without having to meet the new captain. Alex and Carson had apprehended Williams and hopefully that would lead to some more arrests. Jack's apartment was eerily quiet and smelled of rotted Chinese food.

Jack grimaced as he found the culprit, a half eaten box of sweet and sour chicken, and he quickly disposed of it outside. The night was warm and a light rain fell from a cloudless sky.

Jack sighed as he headed back to his quiet and empty apartment. The last two years of his life was a blur. He and Kathy separating and then soon after Kathy filing for divorce. Jack struggling to hold on to his job and sanity as Kathy and her snake of a boyfriend, John Merrell, took everything from Jack.

The one thing they couldn't take away was shared custody of Luke. Luke was Jack's world and one of the few people who kept him grounded. Jack was always in his better moods when he was with Luke.

He would have loved to have spent more time with him but unfortunately work got in the way of that.

It was Kathy who went to the parent/teacher meetings and soccer games.

It was Kathy who more of a parent then Jack.

And Luke's accident had made Jack hit rock bottom.

If he lost Luke, he had nothing else to live for.

Nothing.

Jack slowly walked towards Luke's room. His felt his heart grow heavy in his chest as he slowly opened the door.

However infrequent they saw each other, Luke had spent enough time at Jack's to make the room his own. It was nothing like his room at John's house but it served his purpose.

The room was a neat and orderly, like Luke preferred it. The bed was neatly made and the small desk in the corner was clean of any clutter. Jack laid back on the bed. He could faintly detect Luke's scent in the pillow. Jack let out a tortured moan as he thought about Luke lying dead to the world in a hospital bed.

Quick, observant, intelligent Luke who had his whole life ahead of him.

The pain soon became too much and Jack headed for the kitchen. He downed the rest of a vodka bottle sitting on the kitchen counter and chased that with three pills. He soon fell into a troubled sleep.

Jack awoke with a start as a sharp knock came from the door.

Who the _hell_ was that?

Jack opened the door grumpily and found Vic (of all people) standing outside. He held up a videotape.

"You have to see this," the man stated. Jack rolled his eyes and let him in.

"What is it?" Jack snapped..

"Surveillance at Greenwood, Merrell & Sands," replied Vic. Jack felt his temper boil.

_John_. What did that _snake_ do _now_?

"Surveillance?" asked Jack.

"Greenwood's being accused of fraud. They've been monitoring his office for the past year. This just came across my desk. Took them long enough to find it."

Vic popped it in Jack's VCR.

It was a waiting room. Luke was doing his homework at a table and Jack's heart ached at the sight. Luke suddenly spilled a glass of water on the floor.

"What the fuck, Vic?" Jack ordered, feeling uneasy watching this. Vic's face was grim and stony and he said nothing.

John suddenly appeared. The audio was a little low but Jack could hear what was being said and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

"What the hell did you do this time?" John was demanding.

Luke's eyes were big and fearful and he picked up the glass on the ground hastily. His voice and hands shook. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm-"

"You miserable little _shit_." John struck Luke across the face and began to beat down on the boy as Luke began to cry. Finally the hitting stopped and John cussed again before leaving the room; leaving his stepson curled up on the ground—shaking with repressed sob.

The tape ended.

Jack stared at the black screen, his mind numb and his fists clenched so hard they turned to a ghostly white. The blood drummed in his ears and the edge of his vision turned blood red.

He closed his eyes briefly and tried to steer his breathing under control.

Vic began to talk. "Technically it's not illegal. No bruises, no abuse. This is only evidence we have against him. I figured you'd want to see this."

Jack said nothing; torn between fury, sadness, and a sudden longing to see his son. With a renewed sense of hopeless desperation, Jack threw on his coat.

He needed to see his son.

* * *

**To Be Continued**

_Please review!_

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* * *

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**NEXT**: Tyler's school situation worsens, Luke wakes up, Carson and Jack grow closer, and Zack faces some occupational hazards...


	8. s e v e n

**A/N**: Another long one ;). We both put a lot of work into these chapters and then finding ways to put them together in a way that makes sense, so please excuse any errors. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: We own nothing.

* * *

Carson walked quickly into the school.

She'd solved a case successfully at work and was in the best mood she'd been in for months. She wore a smile; fully intent on taking Tyler out to the local Subway for a fun dinner and then buying him an ice cream cone afterwards.

The gymnasium (that housed the children of working parents after school hours) was full and noisy once she arrived. As was routine, Carson walked up the sign-in table, wrote her signature next to her son's name, and look around the large vicinity for him.

Not seeing him, she turned to the nearest chaperone with a polite smile. "Hi," she said pleasantly. "I'm look for my son Tyler…?"

The young woman in charge blinked once, cleared her throat, and then spoke in a lowered voice. Carson raised a brow. "Tyler has been having some problems, lately…" the girl relented, voice solemn.

Carson frowned and shook her head. "Problems?"

"Yeah," the girl sounded apologetic. "He doesn't listen to anything he's told; he annoys the other kids; he never gets any work done…Anyway," the girl seemed almost to brush off her previous statements and this began to anger Carson. Her good mood had just come to a sudden and irritating stop. "Today he was doing okay playing with the other children, but then something must have been said because the next thing we see is Tyler trying to _attack_ another boy. He threw all the blocks down on the ground and then he tried to badmouth his teacher. It got to the point-,"

"-I'm sorry," Carson held up a hand, voice steely. "This doesn't sound like my son. Are you sure-,"

"I'm sure," the girl said gently. Carson's jaw tightened. "It got to the point today where we had to take him away. He's in another room right now, thinking about what he did."

"He's _what_?" Carson was aghast; her blue eyes widened and her mouth dropped in revulsion. The girl appeared slightly taken aback and before she got the chance to further explain Carson was shouldering her purse and pushing past the chaperone. "Where is he?" she demanded.

"Here, I'll just take you to him-,"

"-Don't you _dare_!" Carson snapped, eyes glinting dangerously. A strong sense of motherly protection rose within her and she felt ready to scream at the top of her lungs out of fury. "How could you do that to him?" she insisted angrily. "He's _eleven_! Did you even _try_ to hear his side of it?"

The girl opened her mouth to say something in reply, but Carson beat her to the punch.

"No-you know what? I've had it with you people. What room is he in? I'm taking him home, if it's alright with you."

The girl sighed and raised her hands in mock surrender. "Two fifty two."

"Thank you," said Carson baldly with no hint of sincerity. She marched as fast as she could to the designated room, and when she found it she whipped open the door so fast one of the hinges gave a carrying screech.

And there was her son.

Standing in the back of the room, hands clenched in fists at his sides and brown hair messy. He turned sharply at the sound of the door opening and when he found her face Carson saw fresh tears on his cheeks. His face crumpled at the sight of her and he ran into her arms.

She knelt down and enveloped him in a tight hug; hearing him sob into her shoulder, feeling him shake under her touch. He was saying fast words into her shoulder but she couldn't make any of them out between his hiccups.

At last he quieted and she gently pulled away. He swiped at his face and sank down onto a chair in the back of the room. Carson knelt by his side and gently thumbed away his tears, her heart breaking at the sight of him.

"Honey," she said softly, watching his blue eyes glitter as he looked down at his lap. His feet tapped the floor in a quick, steady rhythm. "What happened?"

Tyler looked at his mother with an expression of raw emotion. When he spoke his voice was pure and a sort of pain covered each word like paste. "I didn't d-do it," he said, sniffing as more tears fell from his eyes. "I mean—I did but-but they didn't _listen to me_! Jason said something bad about y-you and it made me mad so I had to get him to stop—'cuz he won't stop unless you m-_make_ him stop—and then he said that I was stupid-stupid, and I'm _not_! And I didn't mean to knock over the buildings but I couldn't help it and then the lady came over and she started y-yelling at me and she wouldn't let me _explain_ and she said-she said that-she said that I was a _bad kid_ and stuff, and then she made me stay in here and it's _not fair_, mom, it's not fair!"

Carson said nothing as she stood and covered her face briefly with her hands. Tears sprung to her eyes and she couldn't hold back a small cry of frustration. As she fought for her own self-composure, she felt someone grab her hand as when she looked down Tyler was staring up at her worriedly.

"Mom?" he asked breathlessly, eyes red. "What's wrong?" Something seemed to occur to him and he quickly began to talk desperately. "Is it me? Is it 'cuz of what happened? Mom-you-you gotta believe me! I didn't mean to! Jason started it! He did! I promise, mom, I didn't start it! And I'm sorry I'm not as smart as the other kids and I'm sorry I can't pay attention to anything anyone says and I'm sorry I make your life hard and I'm sorry my teacher doesn't like me and I'm sorry I can't-,"

"-Tyler, no, baby, no…" Carson hugged his head to her breast protectively, silencing his apologies with a mother's touch. She blinked back her tears of anger and guilt and willed herself to be strong. "None of that—none of that's true, honey. You have nothing to be sorry for, Ty', nothing!"

"But Mrs. Labrizzi said-,"

"-Mrs. Labrizzi doesn't know you!" Carson said with a sudden surge of conviction. Tyler looked her, wide-eyed. "She doesn't know who you are, she doesn't know all the things you're so good at, she doesn't _care_ to find out, even!

"Now, come on. We're going home."

She took his hand and determinately walked out of the small room and out of the school. Retrieving Tyler's backpack from the rack outside, the mother and son took the front entrance to avoid anymore altercations.

And then came the last person either wanted to see.

"Tyler," Mrs. Labrizzi said sharply as the boy ushered towards the front door. Carson turned sharply, nostrils flaring at the sight of the teacher. "Ms. Stevens…"

Carson's eyes narrowed and her ears pricked. Gripping her son's hand tighter she raised her head as the teacher walked over to them, carrying some sort of bag. "Did something happen today with Tyler, Mrs. Labrizzi?"

The woman didn't seem surprised at all that the mother seemed to know something; in contrast she gave off a smug air about her. "All in a day's work, Mrs. Stevens. And oh, do we have our work cut out for us."

Half-hidden by his mother, Tyler had gone stone silent; he studied the ground with nervous eyes and he tapped out a scattered beat against his blue jeans.

"I don't appreciate the way you're treating my son-,"

"-And I don't appreciate the way he behaves in my classroom but we can't all have what we want, can we? Someone always has to suffer-,"

"-That someone is _not_ going to be Tyler!"

"Then how about teaching him some manners, hmm? So he doesn't act out like he always does and _insist_ on learning _nothing_!"

"You know what? Something's _wrong_ with you, lady!" Carson jabbed her finger in the air and her face had gone tight and flushed. "My son is the smartest kid I've ever met, and he's a _good boy_, so whatever _you're_ doing must be-,"

"-Smart? _Smart_?" Mrs. Labrizzi laughed an arrogant laugh. "You are sadly mistaken, Mrs. Stevens. I doubt Tyler is intellectually capable of even _passing_ my _class_, let _alone_ the sixth _grade_!"

Carson felt a sort of blind fury wash over her. She hadn't felt this angry in a long, long time. Most of the time she kept her cool, stayed smiling, gently let things pass. But this…this was unthinkable…this was horrible…this was…she was…

She hadn't been this angry since Tyler's father had died. Since she'd lost her husband, since she'd lost her security and her freedom…

But back then she'd done nothing to vent. She'd been there for little Tyler who hadn't understood. She'd been there for the lawsuit and the evidence and the witnesses. She'd done everything required and had not shed a tear in public.

But this had crossed the line.

She felt the pressure release on her hand and when she look down and saw Tyler's face it made her heart _shatter_ into a thousand tiny pieces that _wept_ for sheer injustice, and yearned for lost innocence.

And the boy's eyes had filled with tears again as he slowly backed away before breaking out in a run. Carson's own eyes widened.

"Tyler!" she shouted after him. He kept running. Tightening her shaking hands around the strap of her purse again, she turned briefly back to the teacher.

"_How dare you_," she whispered low and dangerous. The teacher lacked the grace and common sense to look ashamed. Carson sniffed and hold back the sob that wanted to break through so badly… "You-,"

But she couldn't finish that because her _son_…He…

Without a second thought she turned and sprinted after him as the wind whipped the school doors closed with a bang behind her.

* * *

Carson was trying very hard not to cry.

Her fingers shook terribly as she pushed the numbers she would need to dial to talk to Jack. Her makeup was messy and her clothes were wrinkled—the appearance of a terrified mother.

The phone rang twice before it was picked up. "Jack Miller."

Carson took a quivering deep breath and forced herself not to break down—that was going to have to wait.

"Jack," she managed, her voice thin but stable. "Tyler's missing."

He didn't ask for identification and immediately his tone switched from being crisp and businesslike to that of urgent concern. "Tyler? When? Where? What happened, Carson?"

Carson sniffed and pressed her left hand to her temple as she slowly sunk down into a seat. "A-about forty five minutes ago. We-we were at his school…He'd gotten in trouble and they-they'd been so _horrible_ to him…His teacher came up to-to us in the h-hall and he j-just _took off_ and I…I haven't seen him since, Jack…"

"Okay." Jack didn't seem nervous or alarmed, and this comforted Carson. "I'll send my guys around. He probably just ran off, Carson, he's probably just fine."

"I know," she said thinly. "Thank you, Jack."

"I'll let you know."

He sounded like he wanted to say more, but he just mumbled an awkward goodbye and Carson hung up the phone. She allowed herself a few seconds of tears before collecting herself and picking up the phone.

She had to find her son.

* * *

Zack had never been so anxious to get somewhere before in his life. School had gotten out a little early for the day and Zack would have usually gone home to laze about the house. But the thought of all the money he could get from working was too much for him. He had come home and changed into some more comfortable clothes. He wanted to get down to the garage as soon as possible and was an eager mess as he sat at the kitchen table. Carey had insisted he eat something before going to work and Cody was starting to get annoyed as Zack tapped his feet in an impatient rhythm.

"Zack, you can't possibly be _that_ excited about work," said Cody skeptically. Zack turned to his brother, one eye glued on his mother who was making him something to eat.

"You don't get it, man. I made five hundred dollars in one day. _Five hundred dollars_!" explained Zack.

"Most of that money is going in the bank," stated Carey. She didn't need Zack going off and having a shopping spree.

"I'd thought I'd help pay the hospital bill," replied Zack slowly, looking at her carefully.

Carey immediately shook her head. "Honey, that's a nice thought, but I'll take care of it," she assured him, bringing over a roast beef sandwich.

"But I thought the insurance people were being jerks." protested Zack, digging into his sandwich.

"It's nothing _you_ have to worry about," assured Carey, rubbing Zack's head. Zack shrugged and quickly finished his sandwich.

"Won't come with me, Cody? Maybe Alex will give you a job," offered Zack playfully, excited at the prospect of making more money.

"No thanks. My stomach still feels kind of funny from the surgery," replied Cody cautiously.

"Suit yourself," said Zack, taking his bike out of the closet. He had spent a good thirty minutes clearing a space for it the night before.

"See ya," he said to his family.

"Bye, honey. Have a good day," exclaimed Carey, kissing Zack on the cheek.

"Mom, stop," groaned Zack. Carey smiled as Zack left and headed for the elevator.

He had no idea that in less then two hours his journey through hell would begin.

* * *

Alex jumped as his cell phone rang. The day's rush had just ended and he was currently trying to get some rest in his office. Alex looked through the mass of clutter on his desk as his phone continued to ring. He was sorely disappointed when he saw that the caller was Jack. Just what he needed.

"Yes, boss?" greeted Alex, answering.

"Please don't call me boss. It makes me feel old," replied Jack. Alex chuckled a little.

"Yes, Jack?"

"Carson's son is missing."

"You mean Tyler?"

"Yes, Tyler. She only has one kid."

"Where was he last seen?"

"His school. His bitch of an English teacher said some pretty hurtful things and he hauled ass out of there. Carson lost sight of him and called me."

Alex groaned. "I haven't seen him." He looked up as the front door opened. Zack Martin came rushing into the office. Alex nodded to him.

"Where the hell are you?" asked Jack on the other end.

"The bike garage."

"Oh, right, your undercover thing. Well, if you see Tyler round him up and call Carson."

"Will do." Jack hung up. Alex sighed and stood, wincing as his back cracked a little.

"Zack, you're here early," said Alex in greeting.

"Hope that's okay." said Zack with no trace of apology. "School got out at one-thirty," he said.

"That's fine. Just had an important package come in," replied Alex, tossing a stuffed manilla envelope to Zack.

"520 Elkwood Lane. Ask for Mr. Cosworth. You know the place?" asked Alex. Zack bit his bottom lip.

"Yeah, I think. Am attorney's office right? The commercial is on all the time," answered Zack with a half-grin.

"That's right. Mr. Cosworth's an important client. This has to get to him by five," ordered Alex.

"No problem," assured Zack, putting the package in his bag.

"Make sure he signs the form. I don't want this being given to the other lawyers in his office," explained Alex.

"Got it, boss," replied Zack, hopping on his bike. Alex smiled as Zack rode out into late afternoon Boston. The sidewalk wasn't very crowded so Zack had a clear shot to Elkwood.

He nodded once in satisfaction and went back into his office.

* * *

It took fifteen minutes for Zack to get to the law firm of Coswroth, Jenkins, and Walsh. He checked the name on the package just to make sure he was in the right place. Frank Cosworth. 520 Elkwood Lane. Zack tucked the package under his arm and walked into the building. A receptionist with a what had to be a foot tall bun on the top of her head was furiously typing away at a keyboard. Zack walked up to her desk and cleared his throat. The receptionist looked up, her face tight with annoyance.

"May I help you?" she asked, faking politeness.

"I have a package for Mr. Cosworth," explained Zack. The receptionist raised an eyebrow. Zack couldn't figure whether she was just a rude person or simply hated kids.

"You can leave it here. I'll make sure he gets it," replied the receptionist, holding her arms out.

"I need a signature," explained Zack, not moving. He wasn't going to let some bitchy receptionist come between him and a nice tip.

"Now see here, young man,"-

"Is there a package for me, Ilene?" The voice came from a door to Zack's right. A man who appeared to be in his late sixties was standing in the doorway.

"Are you, Mr. Cosworth?" asked Zack, ignoring Ilene the bitch.

"Yes I am. I assume Alex sent you," replied Cosworth. Zack nodded and gave Cosworth his package.

"Do I need to sign anything?" asked Cosworth. Zack took out his clipboard and handed it to Cosworth. Cosworth quickly signed and handed it back to Zack.

"Thanks a lot," said Zack, putting the clipboard back in his bag. Cosworth smiled and gave Zack a hundred.

"Good work, kid," complimented Cosworth.

"Wow. Thanks," said Zack, beaming. Cosworth and returned to his office with his package. Zack nodded at Ilene and left, sort of in a state of disbelief over the hundred.

* * *

Zack was making good time on his way back. About two blocks from the garage he noticed a young boy sitting on a bench in front of a closed hard wear store. The boy's face was flushed and tears were falling from his eyes. Zack stopped pedaling and hopped off his bike. People rushed by him, totally oblivious to the crying boy next to them. _Selfish jerks._

"Hey, you okay?" asked Zack, putting down his kickstand and walking over to the boy. The boy wiped the tears quickly off his face and looked away.

"I'm fine," the boy muttered softly. Zack bit his lip nervously. He had never been good with little kids. Not since he and Cody were put on duty at the Tipton's daycare.

"What's your name?" asked Zack, sitting down next to the boy. The boy looked at him shyly, trying to decide whether this older boy was friend.

"Tyler..." he said slowly.

"I'm Zack," said Zack. Tyler didn't say anything, though hee tapped his feet in a strange pattern and his eyes darted around constantly.

"Where are your parents?" asked Zack. Tyler shrugged.

Zack forced back a groan. Tyler was becoming a little frustrating to deal with.

"I'm going to call my boss so he can give us a ride, okay?" asked Zack. Tyler nodded a little. Zack dug the radio out of his bag and pressed the call button. _Click_.

"Hey, Alex?" asked Zack.

"What's up, kid?"

"I found a boy sitting on a bench crying. He doesn't know where his parents are. Should I take him to the garage?"

There was a pause.

"Alex?"

"What's the boy's name?"

"Tyler."

"Tyler _what_?" Zack knelt down so his head was level with Tyler's.

"What's your last name, Tyler?" asked Zack. Tyler looked up, his eyes still red from crying.

"Stevens," he sniffed. Zack pushed the call button on the radio again.

"Stevens. His name's Tyler Stevens."

"Stay where. I'll come get you. Where are you?"

"In front of Stu's Hardware."

"Okay. Don't move."

"Sure thing." Zack put the radio away. The sidewalk was now deserted. The hardware store wasn't on a main street so in the late afternoon the foot and car traffic around it became minimal. Zack and Tyler sat in silence for a few minutes before four tough looking men showed up. They walked past Zack and Tyler a few feet before stopping and turning around. Zack felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"Hey, guys. What's up?" asked the leader of the gang. He smelled of whiskey.

"Just waiting for our parents," replied Zack, trying to come up with something to say to scare these guys off. The leader didn't seem to buy it. Before Zack or Tyler could yell for help, the four men grabbed them and dragged them to a nearby alley. Zack tried to fight back but got a kick in the gut for his troubles.

"Don't fight it, kid. This will be over before you know it," sneered the leader. Tyler was having no luck fighting off his attackers. One of his attackers had taken out a knife and cut Tyler's shirt in half. The leader of the gang had just finished cutting Zack's shirt off when he was pulled to the ground. Four men swarmed the alley, shouting expletives and beating the rapists down. Tyler was balling his eyes out. Zack recognized one of the men as Jack from the hospital. Jack pulled the guy assaulting down to the ground and then slammed him into the wall. Jack's partners had beaten the other three guys to a pulp and handcuffed them. It had all happened in thirty seconds.

"You boys okay?" asked a big, bald guy.

"Yeah," replied Zack, the hairs on the back of his neck still standing up. He had come very close to being raped. Jack came over and helped Zack up.

"You alright?" asked Jack, taking his jacket off and putting it around Zack.

"Yeah." said Zack shakily, trying to stay strong like everyone else seemed to be doing. "Um. What are you doing here?" he asked to cover up his inner horror.

"Alex's an old friend. He called and said you find Tyler. I know Tyler's mo,," replied Jack. Tyler was being led away by the other two guys.

Zack sighed and followed Jack to his car.

Work was a little different then he'd thought.

* * *

Carson had gotten the call from Jack and within ten minutes had sped her way down to the station. She barely gave herself enough time to lock and close the car doors before she was sprinting into the station.

Bursting through the front doors her eyes fell on two figures sitting on one of the benches in the main room. One of the figures she recognized as Jack, and the other as the boy she loved more than anything else in the world.

"Tyler!" she found herself crying. He slowly raised his head and she saw at once the sharp fear and anguish in his eyes. Tear tracks stained his cheeks and he was blinking rapidly.

"Mom-," he whispered as he was swept up in a tight hug. His mother stroked his hair as she held him to her, murmuring loving phrases that meant nothing and everything at the same time.

When the sweet moment had ended Carson turned to Jack who was standing with a small smile on his face as he watched the mother and son. Carson put an arm around Tyler's shoulders and sighed thankfully.

"How can I ever thank you enough?" she asked him wistfully.

Jack shrugged and waved it off. "No problem," he assured the single mom. "It was the least I could do. And it's kind of my job."

Carson laughed gratefully and forced herself not to give him a hug. That was entirely inappropriate behavior for a police station. She was already starting to get self-conscious with her fellow cops around and watching her. Never, she'd told herself, would she ever let them see her cry.

But Tyler was an exception.

He always had been.

The moment was broken as Vic and another officer dragged a cursing, bloodied man into the station. The guy's arm appeared to be broken and he was kicking furiously.

"What the hell guys? I asked you to simply transfer the guy from the car to the holding cell," snapped Jack.

"Guy went ballistic. We had to use force," explained Vic apologetically.

"Guess he doesn't want to go to jail," added the other officer as the guy was thrown into the holding cell.

"Who's he?" asked Carson. Jack didn't say anything and suddenly uneasy. Carson was not going to like this…

"Jack?" She wanted an answer. Jack swallowed and scratched the back of his neck.

"He was assaulting, Tyler," muttered Jack, giving the now grief stricken mother a sympathetic look. Carson held Tyler even tighter and shot daggers at the wounded man in the holding cell. Her eyes glittered and she closed her eyes briefly to compose herself with a deep breath. In her arms, Tyler had gone very still.

"Did he do anything, Jack?"

"No, no. We got there in time to stop it," interrupted Jack. Carson looked down at her son, who was nervously looking around the room, trying to avoid the gaze of the four men in the holding cell.

"I need to take him home," explained Carson. Jack nodded. Carson led Tyler to the front door, never once looking at the four rapists in the holding cell. She'd deal with those jerks later.

Right now her son needed her.

* * *

"This place is so _cool_!"

Jack smiled proudly as his eager son looked around the small pizzeria with wide-eyed excitement. The place was a bit retro, a little ethnic, and a whole lot of fun. Families were everywhere—this was a favorite for Boston's kids.

"Any kind of pizza you've ever wanted," Jack boasted, watching his son look at the brightly colored menu with awe. "My personal favorite?" he pointed at one of the circles. "The _Mars Meaty_. Out of this _world_, I'm tellin' you."

Luke laughed at the joke. Suddenly his eyes went bigger as he caught site of something on the menu, and he pointed to it quickly. "Can I have _that_ one?" he asked as he asked in wonder. Jack looked to the selected pizza and began to smirk.

"_The Chocolate Cheesy Delight_," he read out loud. "_Three of our most popular cheeses plus M&Ms, peanut butter cups, and chocolate chips_." He glanced up at his beaming son and shook his head. "If that's what you want-,"

"-That's what I want!" Luke assured him.

Jack grinned and flagged down their waiter. Once the man had left Jack turned his attention back to Luke who had picked up a crayon and started to doodle something on the back of the kid's menu. He'd originally scoffed at such a monstrosity as an _eleven-year-old_ ordering off the _baby menu_, but once he'd figured out it was really just a piece of scrap paper his attitude had changed.

"What are you drawing, kid?" Jack asked politely. Luke dimpled and reached for another color.

"You," he said sheepishly. Jack raised a brow and made to look at the paper, but Luke squealed and hastily covered the paper with his arms. "You can't see it 'til it's done!" he protested as though speaking a universal truth.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Jack apologized with a chuckle. "I'll just let you work on that while I go to the bathroom, okay? I'll be right back." He got up from the table at Luke's cheerful nod and began to calmly make his way over to the restroom.

He was in such a good mood that he didn't see the two people in front of him and _wham_! suddenly he was slamming into someone. He looked at who he had bumped into and saw with a completely sincere amount of surprise that it was-

-Carson?

A warm flush began to creep up his neck and he mentally kicked himself. She was looking as crisp and pretty as normal, and he saw with a decent amount of surprise that she was helping dust off a boy who looked to be exactly Luke's age.

"I'm so sorry-," Jack sputtered. "I wasn't paying attention-,"

"-No, no, it's fine," said Carson without looking up. She satisfied herself with the boy and finally looked at who the speaker was; her brown eyes widened with recognition and she suddenly looked mortified. "Jack," she said, voice rather high. "I didn't know you came here…"

"Oh, no," he laughed nervously, free hand springing to massage the back of his neck—a nervous habit if he ever had one. "It's uh, well, I have my son for a weekend, see, and I just wanted to treat him to some…fun…"

Carson smiled politely. "You—you have a son?"

"Uh, yeah," Jack cleared his throat awkwardly. "My ex-wife and I. He just turned eleven, actually, so this is kind of his present from me. I couldn't make it to his party because of work, you know, so…" He was babbling and well-aware of it.

Carson continued to smile, masking her embarrassment skillfully. "Tyler's eleven, too," she said, motioning to the boy who stood fidgeting by her side. His eyes were darting every which way and he was paying the two of them no mind.

"Tyler your son…?"

"Yes," said Carson quickly.

Jack nodded and smiled warmly. "Well," he said. "I better get back to Luke. Don't want to leave him alone too long—not in this crazy city," he tried to joke, but the effort fell flat.

Carson nodded understandably. "Of course," she said, placing a hand on her son's shoulder. "I guess I'll see at work on Monday, then?"

"Yes," said Jack immediately. "You definitely will."

But that, among many other things, was a lie.

* * *

The monitor beeped like a constant drum.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

And it was constant and it would have been comforting had it not reminded Jack with every high note that it was measuring the beats of his young son's heart.

Anger was making him restless and he paced around the room. Dangerous thoughts darkened his mind and, had he not been in such a closed, peaceful room he would have had a considerable amount of difficulty holding his temper.

And then something happened.

The monitor's steady rhythm picked up its pace, and the beeping grew loud and persistent. Jack's eyes widened and he gaped at his sleeping child. There didn't seem to be any difference and yet there _had_ to be because machinery didn't lie.

He was about to run out an alert the nurses but they beat him to the punch. Three of them hurried in, followed quickly by a doctor, and began to bustle about.

Jack stood aside, watching every move with fear and trepidation, but with a great amount of hope, suddenly, too. All thoughts of Luke's step-father fled his mind.

After another few moments of this the doctor turned to Jack, a small smile coloring his face. "I think he may be waking up soon." he said.

Jack gaped at him, his own heart beating rapidly. "Really?"

The doctor nodded and turned to one of the nurses. "Come and get me when he does, okay?"

Jack sat shakily down in the seat next to his son's hospital bed and took Luke's hand in his own. He shook slightly in anticipation, and a million thoughts rushed through his mind…

After an agonizing fifteen minutes of the quicker beeping of the monitor and the sound of low voices outside of the room, Jack heard a small noise emitted from the white bed before him.

"…dad?"

* * *

**To Be Continued**

_Please review!_

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* * *

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**Coming up next time**: Luke answers some questions of Jack's, Tyler struggles with what happened both in and out of the classroom, and Zack shares a moment of weakness with his brother.


	9. e i g h t

**A/N**: And that's a wrap :). Thanks to everyone who reviewed! It's been fun. (On a quick promotional note, Suspension and I are currently writing a new fic together called _Kill the Messenger_. Check it out if you get the chance!)

**Note from DMBFan**: There will be a sequel entitled _Redemption_ (tagline: no sin goes unpunished) featuring the gang, plus more Cody. Look for it this weekend.

Thanks again, everyone!

* * *

Boston, MA

* * *

"Did they hurt you, Tyler?"

"No, mom."

"I need you to look at me, sweetheart. _Did they hurt you_?"

"_No_, mom."

Carson sighed, seeing no flicker of dishonesty in his big eyes. She was grateful to Jack and the others from rescuing her son, but a deep fear still covered her heart when she thought of what could have happened…

Tyler tapped his feet idly, losing interest in the conversation. Carson swallowed once resolutely before standing and motioning towards the kitchen. "How about we order a pizza?" she suggested. Tyler grinned.

"Yeah!" he agreed.

When the pizza had arrived they turned on a Red Sox game and cheered together as it commenced. The fifth inning saw the bases loaded, two strikes against the Boston batter, and a tied score of six-all.

"HIT A GRAND SLAM!" Tyler was shouting, up on his feet and leaping up and down in excitement. "COME ON! COME ON! COME ON!"

Carson laughed, enjoying her son's antics more than the game as she steadied his water to make sure he didn't accidentally kick it over and spill it. The pitcher threw his famous curve ball, and with the grace and suspense of a seasoned hitter, the batter slammed the ball out of the park.

"YES!" Tyler screamed, cheering loudly and clapping fanatically as he hopped around in the living room. "WE WON WE WON WE WON!"

Carson cheered along with him, deciding not to point out that more innings remained and that this temporary lead could very well dissipate. Victory was too sweet, she knew, not to celebrate its existence.

Once Tyler had settled down and the Red Sox had struck out, the boy climbed up on the couch to settle down next to his mother. Carson smiled contentedly and draped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. She planted a kiss on top of his head and closed her eyes.

* * *

Cody looked up as his brother entered the suite, smiling a little in greeting. "Hi," he said excitedly, staring back at the TV screen. Zack blinked at him, shaking his head a little as though preoccupied with his own thoughts. 

"Hey," he answered distantly. "What're you watching?"

"Fifth inning, bases loaded, two strikes, score six-all."

Zack's tired face quickly broke out into a wide grin and he sprinted over to his twin. "_Seriously_?" He sat down, mimicking his brother and leaning forward eagerly. "Oh man—if he hits a grand slam-,"

"We might beat the Yankees!" Cody finished, crossing his fingers. Both brothers stared intently as the pitch was thrown. The ball came closer and closer until it made contact with the bat, and then-

"YES!" both boys screamed, echoing the glee of the cheering stadium, and of the homes of half of Boston.

* * *

Jack stared at his son. A few minutes ago Luke had woken up, and though the boy was tired and weak and didn't really remember much, he was awake and he was lucid and he was alive, and for Jack that was more than enough. 

All thoughts of John, who had been picked up by Vic (and Kathy) had fled his mind and now his conversation with Luke regarding the Red Sox seemed so terribly normal it almost felt to Jack as though it wasn't really happening.

And because the Yankees had lost and this was hardly considered customary, it was almost a time of great celebration and not, as was perhaps necessarily expected for their situation, a time of great wonder.

But Luke was alive and Jack was so, so grateful, and he thought that perhaps he would have been willing to have talked about anything so as to hear his child's voice answer back. Because to have gone so long without hearing that voice…It seemed almost a sin in itself, and so to have such a gift back seemed truly, remarkably, exhilaratingly phenomenal.

The baseball conversation ended as Luke fell silent. Jack took his son's small hand in his.

"What is it, buddy?" he asked. Luke looked up at his father, tears glistening in his eyes as he shrugged a little in bewilderment.

"I remember," replied Luke slowly, painfully.

"You remember." Jack echoed, nodding pensively as he waited for the boy to continue. Luke turned to look at the plain walls of the room and swallowed thickly.

"What happened," he said quietly. "I think I remember what happened."

Jack said nothing.

* * *

"So—what? Do you work tomorrow?" Cody asked his brother casually as they reclined with soda and chips during a commercial. 

"Nah," said Zack with a cynical laugh. "I'm taking a break."

Cody rolled his eyes. "Yeah," he said sarcastically, examining a chip. "Delivering stuff. What a hard job."

Zack shook his head. "You have no idea…" he said, tone awfully cliché.

"You know," said Cody a few minutes later as a special news bulletin regarding a shoot-out outside of the city played out on the television. "People are so stupid. If everybody just, like, didn't bother anyone else and just minded their own business the world would work like a clock-," he snapped as if to illustrate his meaning.

Zack nodded agreeably. "But then cops would be out of work." he noted.

Cody shrugged. "They could just take your job," he said playfully. Zack rolled his eyes, laughing as he beat his brother mercilessly over the head with a pillow.

* * *

Hours later, Kathy wiped off a few stray tears as she sat next to her sleeping son, back to her ex-husband.

Jack's beeper went off, startling the tense calm of the room. He groaned as he checked the number and Kathy turned to give him a suspicious look.

"It's Vic. John must have been booked already," said Jack absent-mindedly, running a hand through his hair. The anger he'd felt before had dissipated, and now he just felt empty…Not so much in a bad way…More like in a calm, serene way. Kathy tightened her grip on Luke's hand and laughed bitterly as she sniffed.

"Hey, it's going to be okay," said Jack assuredly. Kathy shook her head and Jack stood up and put a hand on her shoulder. She stiffened at his touch.

"Jack-please." Kathy said numbly as she stood up, letting go of Luke's hand. She turned to face her ex. "I don't want-,"

"-Just-listen, okay?" Jack took a deep breath, suddenly needing to say something. "This-," he waved around to the room to illustrate his point. "All this was murder on both of us. I was hoping we could try to heal some old wounds now."

Kathy looked at him, cringing. "Jack," she said mournfully, eyes glittering.  
"I just can't," she said, turning away from him. Her defensive walls were going back up and Jack knew that if he didn't move fast, she'd be gone from him forever.

"Kathy, we both care for each other! We can't-we can't hide that fact, okay? Let's just end this stupid divorce and-and go get remarried!" Jack pleaded, his words sounding a little too desperate for his liking. Tears fell down Kathy's face as she turned again to face her son.

"I'm sorry, Jack. I can't. I just can't right now," she said stonily. And just like that, she retreated into her shell. Jack's shoulders fell—the moment was lost.

His beeper once again went off and, leaving Kathy to her own private world, Jack went over to Luke and planted a kiss on the boy's forehead. He gave Kathy a slight nod and then left the room.

Instead of heading for the elevator, Jack headed for a balcony that was near Luke's room. He was familiar with it because he'd often retreated there for solitude.

He stepped out on the balcony and looked out over Boston. The sun was going down and the sky was a pale orange with a splash of pink.

Far in the distance, a siren cried out. A bird chirped. A car honked.

Jack stared out over the city, unsure of what the future held.

* * *

That night as the boys were turning in, Cody tossed Zack his toothpaste before switching off the light. "Hey," he said casually. "Did mom tell you the insurance company called?" 

Zack froze. "No," he said hesitantly, waiting for bad news.

"Yeah," continued Cody as he climbed underneath the covers. "Turns out the operation was covered."

Zack blinked, all the blood rushing to his head. He numbly sat back on his bed and nodded, swallowing roughly. When he found his voice he managed a shaky smile. "That's good," he said thickly. "That's really good."

Outside, it started to rain.

* * *

**The End**

* * *


End file.
